No Reason to Doubt
by pensive puddles
Summary: After lossing the one thing Hermione loved the most, she is tormentated day and night by her lover's face. The ring she still keeps, still binding her to her love. The question is, is her lover still bound to her?
1. Sing Me to Sleep

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. These things are rather pointless…but if I must, then I must! 

Notes: Thoughts are _Italicized_

Thank yous:First of all, **THANK YOU ALL** who reviewed for _Forever Yours_. I was truly touched by all your reviews. I thank the following: Bozena, Dreaming One, Mesmer, RebelRikki, Compellingold, Badbmidnight, Ace7, righteousgrl, sweet-77-thang, innocentrose, Bombshell, Kyra4, Me, User123, Nay, Kat, S.S., Willow Rose 14, Hota-chan, starlightz6, Jessica, Muggle Lover, Alanye, Befuzzled, Serena, FuMan Skeeto, Ambrosia, PsYcHoJo, Sammy11, I Don't Exist, Angeldani, Lady Prongs, and WTF. And a special thanks to Laura (AliceInFanFicLand), I really appreciate your email! 

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No Reason to Doubt

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I. Sing Me to Sleep

~ Pensive Puddles

"Hermione! Hermione!" a voice whispered. 

"What? I'm here. What do you want?" she called out. It was so dark.

"Hermione," it called again.

"What?" she screamed at it. She didn't know where she was; it was so dark. All she knew was that she had been in this darkness for a long time and the voice kept calling her name. She was getting irritated, but above all, scared.

"I want…" the voice stopped.

"What?" she asked, hoping it would go on, yet deep inside her she was getting nervous. And then suddenly, darkness started to whirl around her. She knew she was going fast, as if she was hooked onto something and being dragged somewhere. She felt no wind, nothing except the feeling of her body leaving behind half of itself as it was yanked deeper into the darkness. 

It started to lighten, and she was able to distinguish a cemetery up ahead. It was dreary looking, cold and damp. She knew; she could feel it soaking into her and she couldn't shake it off. And she screamed in terror as she continued to be pulled, pulled through the earth and into a coffin. Lifeless hands grabbed her around the waist, holding onto her with strength that surprised and terrified her. The lifeless eyes opened, revealing dull, glazed over blue glared at her. The withered, dead lips released a raspy answer, "I want you!"

Hermione screamed and twisted away, away from the dead corpse, away from the hands that reached for her, away from those petrifying eyes. Her head hit against something and stars exploded before her eyes. She clutched her head and opened her eyes. Through the haze, she looked around at her surroundings. She was breathing deeply and she was covered in a cold sweat. She looked down at herself. Her shirt was wet from tears and sweat and a white sheet was tangled around her waist and legs. She was on the floor, in her room. Her room, not the coffin.

She held onto the bed for support as she raised herself up on her trembling legs. She stumbled to the bathroom and ran the faucet, drinking the ice cold water that was gushing forth. She let her face get soaked in it and she looked up, tears mixing with the water. 

Same dream, same eyes, same words, same nightmare. She closed her eyes and instantly saw the eyes, _his_ eyes. Light blinded her as she snapped her eyes open again. She glanced at the mirror, doing a double take. The girl did not look like the girl she thought she knew. 

In place of bright amber eyes, there were two dull, depressed, and confused orbs. They looked so lost and scared, like a small child left in a dark house. Instead of a slim face that held a certain glow in it that never seemed to dim, color blushing her cheeks, her face was thinner and pale, making the dark bags under her eyes darker. Her face, everything looked so dull, so worn out. 

She pinched her cheeks, gaining some color back, but not a lot. It would soon fade, fade back into it's dull, white color. She frowned. She really had let herself go, ever since his death. She blinked rapidly, tears already threatening to fall again. Just his name made tears cling to her lashes. How she hated it. Sadness, depression, loss was the only things she felt now. She was forgetting what it meant to be happy. 

But **how could** she be happy? He was **gone**, buried in that stupid wooden box under the ground. How she despised it. Her dream flooded back to her. She didn't need to ponder on who that person was. She always knew, always. She felt it whenever she dreamt. 

She sighed, making her way down to the kitchen. The dream felt so real! She could feel his cold fingers against her skin. He had looked at her so hungrily, trying to suck in all the life, warmth inside of her. He had no idea how she longed to join him. Death would be better than walking on this earth. Her friends would be happy because then they didn't have to deal with her, he'd be happy, and she'd be happy. Everything would be perfect. 

But it would never be. She thought of past times as she moved things around in her cupboard. A victorious grin spread over her face as her thin fingers closed around a bottle. She gazed at it lovingly, her new best friend of late. Closing her eyes in pleasure, she poured the stingy concoction down her throat. She grimaced as it left her throat burning, and still she continued drinking, drowning the fear, the pain, the memories that crashed like a wave on top of her. 

She had gotten to know Tyler. He was cool, very laid back and kind. He reminded her more of Sirius then Draco, which was both a sad and good thing. Good because Draco was still a tender subject for her. Bad because it brought up memories of Sirius. It wasn't his fault he reminded her of two people she loved dearly.

She loved Sirius, but only as a friend. Whenever she looked back on the times, the memories with Sirius, she silently thanked him. He had added a little more spice into her life. A little more adventure. What could she say? Sirius was a breather when adults got too stuffy. He was irreplaceable (as they all realized and felt after his death), and she was glad she knew him, even if he did get Harry, Ron and her into close encounters with severe punishments. The love she had for Sirius or anyone else for that matter, was not anything like the love she had for Draco.

Draco was amazing. She felt foolish on how she couldn't describe him. It seemed impossible to place a specific word onto him. He was so tricky, although she could master his tricks or so she thought. Somehow, he always tricked her time and time again. The times she thought she understood him were the times in which she had no idea. She grinned for a moment at her own logic. 

Yes, Draco was amazing to say the least: Cold, calculating, menacing on the outside, warm, gentle, and loving in the inside. If she had never know the real Draco, Hermione would have scoffed at the thought of Draco being anything but a cold-hearted prick. How wrong she would have been to think that of him.

Tyler was the one constant reminder of two of the people she had lost in the war. She slowly tried to break off contact, yet he still persisted on talking and meeting with her. He had finally stopped by her house one day, tired of the cat and mouse game.

"What is the deal, Hermione?" he had demanded. "Are we friends, or are we not?"

"Tyler…" she had tired to explain to him her reasons, but the moment he had appeared, all the reasons she had told herself didn't make sense. 

"Don't just say my name. Tell me what you want, what's happening to you, to us." 

"Do you want that truth?" she had said, staring at him. "Because I'd rather not tell you the truth, for you wouldn't understand."

"Try me." He glowered, eyes flashing in anticipation for her answer.

She had taken a deep breath, had watched his serious, demanding face break into disbelief and shock as she had said, "I don't think we should be friends anymore, not for awhile anyway. I mean, you're a wonderful person, Tyler. It's just…it's just that you remind me too much of Sirius and Draco. I…I just can't look at you and not see Draco, and I can't listen to you and not hear Sirius."

He was so baffled he didn't know what to say so Hermione had continued, ending by saying, "You probably don't understand and I wish you could because I feel awful. I'm being honest when I tell you that you're a great guy, but I'm also being honest when I tell you that it hurts to be around you. And it's not your fault!" she added quickly when he had opened his mouth to speak in outrage. "It's not yours at all; it's mine. And I don't want to be with someone and expect them to be like Sirius or Draco. I can't do it. It's unfair to you and it's unfair to me. I don't think this friendship is the right thing at this time."

"When would it be, Hermione?" he had demanded after she had stopped. He didn't look angry. He only looked at her with pity in his eyes, something that she had to turn away from because she had already received too much sympathy from her other friends. "Look at me! Where in our lives would our friendship find a good time to start again? Even if we put if off for a year, ten years, I still would make you remember Draco or Sirius. Don't deny it. Just say it, we can't be friends at all."

She tried to speak against his last statement, but he had raised his hand in silence, halting the words that were on the tip of her tongue. "Don't worry. I understand."

She had stared at him, surprised at how he was taking this better than she had expected, and she was slightly saddened that he seemed to give up so easily. He looked up at her and she was heartbroken to see tears clinging onto his sandy blond eyelashes. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She always started to cry if she say a man cry. Maybe some girls didn't like to see guys cry because it made them look weak, but she was glad when guys cried, showing that they had feelings as well. Now, however, she wished he wouldn't. She felt so horrible, and a part of her told her she deserved to feel so ashamed. He whispered, looking at her with a small beg in his eyes, asking her to say that this wasn't so, "This is good bye then?"

"D--"she stopped herself from uttering the wrong name. Instead, to cover up for her mistake, she had said, "Damn, I'm so sorry. I really am."

"S'okay."

She had felt stupid, just standing there. She couldn't have let herself close the door on him and their short friendship, so she had reached up and embraced him. He returned the gesture, and they parted with a kiss on the cheek. She had watched with small tears filling her eyes, as he had opened the door to his car, and drove off. 

~*~

What should have happened, a happy ending, never happened. And so here she sat, in her kitchen, drinking whisky, and shedding dry tears over the loss of a good friendship and the loss of a dear love. 

She tipped her head back, letting the bottle empty into her mouth. A couple drops fell onto her tongue and nothing more. She shook the bottle and she lowered it. Empty and she didn't have another. She scowled. She was just getting to feel slightly better, less shaky, dulling the pain if but just a little. 

Sighing again, she got up, leaving her empty bottle on the counter and she walked dizzily to the couch in her living room. Laying down, she let herself blank out, only acknowledging how warm the room was and the comfortable cushions she had laid on. Cushions that both of their bodies had laid on…cuddled on…holding each other close…she shouldn't have let him go, shouldn't had let him leave and be murdered! 

She closed her eyes, turning to the side where the cushions padded the back. She buried her face in them and held onto a pillow, pressing it to her nose and inhaling deeply. Her lungs expanded and she wasn't able to trace out the faded smells of his strong cologne. Tears stung her eyes, only giving relief when her eyelids covered them. 

She had done this so many times that she could have sworn she had breathed it all out. She clutched the pillow to her chest, cuddling against it as she curled herself up in a fetal position. The room looked so blurry to her eyes so she kept her eyes shut. She felt so warm, and somehow, in spite of how she sometimes wanted to shed her clothes to cool down, she didn't move. The warmth pounded into her viens, teasing her to believe that someone was covering her, holding her with his protective arms. A comforting thought, but she knew better. How she wished it was him touching her, holding her though! The thought of him doing that, touching her with his loving touch, placed a delicate smile onto her dainty lips. 

Before she fell asleep, she had opened her eyes, barley halfway. Her eyes had been able to make out blue eyes and a soft, sad smile. It was pale looking and see through. _Like Nearly-Headless Nick, _She thought._ I wonder how he's doing?_

Her eyes were opening a little more, mind waking up to her thoughts. But the ghost like figure waved his arm over her and she felt warm and comfortable, rocking her to sleep. And so she blinked once more to catch the figure smiling down tenderly, like a mother who checks on her child right before he falls to sleep, glad all is well. Hermione forgot the phantom figure and fell into complete darkness as her eyes refused to remain open any longer. 

TBC…

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A/N: Review!

After **LONG** **LAST**, I've finally sat down and composed this little piece together for one of your sequels. Yes, you heard--er--read right! There are **two** sequels. Reasons? I had two ideas and I wanted to use them and they fit perfectly (I think anyway) to _Forever Yours_. 

I'll put the second one up later…since I don't have it typed up yet…*sweat drop* Uh…too much school work? *gulp*

Hey! I can do my wishing thing! *takes deep breath* 

*Looks as readers turn to leave, not wanting to hear Pensive Puddles' ranting* Just Kidding! Come back! Yes you! Get back here! 

*cough* Don't be like that person, be kind and review….*bottom lip trembles*


	2. A Pair of Blue Eyes

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

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No Reason to Doubt

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II. A Pair of Blue Eyes

By Pensive Puddles

A far off ringing was muffled. And still, the annoying, constant beeping forced Hermione to open her eyes. It was so difficult of a task, to her anyway. Once her eyelids were open, they started to drift close again, telling her that all she needed was five minuets. She would wake up in that short amount of time…

The noise grew louder and in a quicker pace. Soon, it broke through the small cloud that had filled her mind in those glorious seconds when her eyes had closed again. She woke up, stretching. She licked her dry lips and tried to remember what had happened, and why she wasn't in her room.

Now that her mind was awake, she was able to hear the shrieking of her alarm clock in her room. Growling and cursing under her breath, she kicked off the blanket and walked angrily to her room. Diving for the clock that seemed to be shrieking it's loudest, she slammed the button down. She glared her hardest at the alarm clock, hoping beyond hope that it would burst into flames, especially after she had chucked it across the room. She gave up once the strain was hurting her eyes. 

Sighing, she placed the now silent clock back on the small table next to her bed. She stood there, dumbly, looking at the clocks time. 7:00, why did she get up so early? Sooner than one would have expected one as tired as her, she came up with the answer. Work. 

Grumbling, she made her way to the bathroom and took her daily shower and getting ready. Feeling more refreshed after the shower of hot water, strawberry soap bubbles, and dry, warm clothes, she went to the kitchen and got her cup of tea. The drink burned her throat as she gulped it down. Lowering the cup to give her throat a rest and to cool down a little, she started cleaning the kitchen of her mess from the previous day. Bottles of alcohol, garbage, old food, She really had become a slob. She never used to be like this. But ever since his death…

She closed her eyes, concentrating on keeping the lump from forming. It had almost been ten months since his death. And her life had completely dissolved. At first, there seemed to be no reason to work, to eat, to live. Her friends had finally done something when they noticed how she looked so tired, thin, like a withered leave from autumn. She had let herself go.

But she hadn't let him go. That was the last thing she would do. The pleading, begging Harry, Ron and Ginny had done to get her to eat more, walk outside and come to social gatherings had not done anything to her. It had only made her retreat farther into the darkness that was slowly consuming her. 

She didn't talk about Draco. No, the pain was too much. She refused to participate in discussions that even brought up an image of Draco. She had yelled at them once. Yelling, screaming for them to leave her alone and that she just needed time. That's all she needed. Time healed all wounds, right? She could only pray that it was true.

Hermione dumped the bottle from last night into a box with all her other bottles. She was surprised at how many bottles there were. She looked at it. The dream from before filled her mind. Cold darkness…withered hands…decayed flesh…hungry, draining eyes…his eyes…he's demands…

She shook her head to clear the horrifying visions. She didn't know what to do. She wished every day that she could be with him, explore afterlife with him. And yet, she didn't want to join that dead corpse that plagued her dreams continuously. That dead body wasn't her Draco somehow. She was so confused. 

Placing the teacup into the sink, she walked to the living room, grabbing her wand and things for work. As she walked to the fireplace and reached for the Floo powder, something caught her eye. 

A blanket lay huddled on the end of the couch. She rose slowly, examining the blanket. It wasn't there before, was it? Maybe she had grabbed it before she fell asleep. Maybe she had woken in the middle of the night and gotten it, completely forgetting in doing so. Yes, that had to be it.

Then why was there something pulling her to it? Why did something not seem right? She tried to call to memory the previous night. The dream woke her up, she had gone to the kitchen, grabbed the bottle, drained it, walked to the living room, and then fell asleep on the couch. No memory of getting up to get a blanket came to mind. She picked up the blanket and held it. She felt a prickling feeling over her arms and neck, as if an electric shot had just ran through her whole body. She dropped the blanket as if it had tried to bite her, turned and marched over to the fireplace.

"Stop being so silly, Hermione! You must have grabbed it in the middle of the night. That's all," she told herself, throwing in the Floo powder and watching the flames turn a brilliant green. Stepping into the warmth, she held tightly to her things and called out, "Ministry of Magic!" As Hermione flew through ash and smoke, she placed her fear behind her.

Hermione entered into her house with a loud snap. She had suddenly remembered that morning why she didn't enjoy Floo more often. The smoke, ash and coughing never really relaxed her, or feel cleaner. Apparating was so much easier: faster, more exhilarating and ash-free. Cracking her back and setting her wand and bag on a table, she went into her kitchen, ready to eat anything hot that would fill her stomach.

She hummed a tune from the Weird Sisters while walking back and forth to get the ingredients to make a nice bowl of hot tomato soup. After slurping down her blood red broth, she placed it in the sink. She stopped when she reached the doorway to the living room. The sink…

Running back, she looked to see her empty bowl lying there. Something was missing…The cup! She had placed it in the sink this morning, not having enough time to clean it. And it was gone…

Looking in her cupboard where she kept her dishes and cups, she counted a total of four: every single cup including the one she had set in the sink. She gazed at it wide eyed, arms falling to her sides numbly. How was it possible? Who came to her house? First the miss placed blanket…now the cup…

Hermione slammed the door of the cupboard closed and turned around quickly, as if expecting to see the culprit right behind her. She saw no one. Her chest rose and fell from her deep yet quick breaths. "Relax, Hermione," she told herself calmly," Just breathe. Harry or Ron might have come by earlier or something. Yeah. That's probably it…but the blanket? Don't think of that! It's just a coincidence. The blanket, you slept walk. The cup, someone, most likely your friends decided to clean…Ron and Harry clean?"

That brought a wave of doubt to her mind. Harry and Ron were the complete opposite of neat freaks. How they had become friends with her would have been totally unpredictable before they knew each other. The boys loved a place that was crammed with items they had, never wanting to throw stuff away, and enjoyed watching food deteriorate before their eyes with each passing week. It seemed to be a contest on who could keep the moldiest food in the house. Okay, so maybe she was exaggerating a little, but she was close enough. 

She walked briskly to the fireplace. She wanted to talk to someone, get any little detail that would give her a clue to what was going on. When she had thrown the Floo powder into the fire, turning the warm, bright flames into an effulgent green, she paused. Maybe she was just jumpy; maybe it was all in her head. Hermione didn't want to consult her small fears to her friends. They would think she was crazy and immediately have her sanity tested at St. Mungo's. No, she couldn't confer with her friends. She had to get through this on her own. 

Two weeks passed. And still strange things were happening, now more noticeable. She even tested it. She left a whole pile of dishes in the sink and they were clean, spotless and stacked back into place the next morning. She left her bed unmade, returning later to find every sheet in its rightful, perfect place. She was awed and afraid. 

Was this some sort of Dark Magic? What was going on? She had no idea and with each passing day of the invisible helper, the fear inside of her was almost tangible. But it wasn't the fact that things were fixed that scared her. It was the fact that during warm nights, she would sometimes see a ghost like figure hovering over her before she fell asleep. And she somehow felt it was Draco; he had returned as a ghost. It both pleased and frightened her. Pleasing because it meant he had returned, that he wasn't dead. Frightening because it was a ghost, and that he wasn't alive. What had he been doing for all this time? Why hadn't come sooner? Why hadn't he shown his face to her? 

She couldn't remember how many times she had felt the urge to tell her friends of her fears. She couldn't remember how many times she had fiend calmness, when really she was being ripped apart by this unseen force. She would get sudden cold spells, imagining something watching her when really no one was there. It was horrible.

The weight of his presence was causing her sleepless nights. She wanted to see him, wanted to see if he was true. It was slowly driving her crazy. The burden in keeping her secret was pressing against her shoulders and she felt crushed all the time.

"Look what you've become," she whispered to herself as she rocked herself back and forth on the floor. It was dark outside, cloudy and damp. She had all the lights on her house, never letting her stalker have the chance to hide in the shadows. Here she sat, clutching onto herself because there was no one else to hold onto. It didn't seem unlogical to sit helplessly on the floor, or to rock herself back and forth. It only felt right. Even when she herself was sinking, it only made sense to hold on. 

Hermione pushed the bottle roughly to her lips. She needed help; she knew that. But she didn't want it, afraid of being called crazy. The stingy liquid slid down her throat and she frowned slightly. Her breathing grew deep in the thick air of her house. She had no where to go, no one to go to. She was alone. All alone…

The woman finally had reached the point of breaking down. It had taken almost a year, and she finally had done it. She was alone. No one cared. All they cared about was themselves, their jobs, their lovers…they were so lucky compared to her.

Hermione dropped the bottle and finally let her stinging eyes release the tears she had been trying to hold back. She let out angry, anguished wails. The pain seemed to issue from her chest, like her heart truly was breaking down the center. It was like one of the Unforgivable curses. She wanted it to end so badly, yet no relief seemed to come. The pain spread through her body, paralyzing her to the floor, making her dig her nails into her own skin to match the invisible pain. All the pent-up frustration, fear and sorrow needed to be released. She pounded her fist against the kitchen floor and bottom cupboards. With ever blow the pain grew, both from her hand and from her heart. But she couldn't stop it; she didn't want to stop it. Something in her brain was telling her she had to continue. When her hand nicked against a cupboard handle and she saw blood did she quit her rampage of madness. She fell back onto her backside and continued rocking herself, her bruised arms encircled around her small legs and her face buried in-between her legs. She had not cried this hard since the day she had watched with heartbreaking, touchable pain as her lover was lowered into the cold earth. 

Her lover…she needed him. The ring told her that he loved her…forever. Even if he died. 

In a desperate, excited movement, she had Apparated herself to the cemetery. But, being slightly drunk and panicked, she had knocked herself off course just a little. Running through the other graves, and tripping over gravemarkers implanted in the earth, she found her way blindly to his grave. She hadn't been there in a long while, and still she remembered which row and which stone her lover lied under. 

Staring at the marble sanctuary, she fell to her knees, crushing herself to the marker. She pressed her chapped lips against the cold stone, curling herself closer to the engraved words of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy, that had once stuck fear and disgust in her at the very sound. How she had scorned him. Now she loved him with love she never knew a person could posses. 

Her tears, having streamed down her face as she had ran, still fell rapidly and freely. They wetted the hard stone, labeling the pain she had. Hermione licked the tears that fell close to her lips. In a small, out of breath voice, she whispered her confessions. "I miss you still, Draco. Damn it, I've tried once to give you up, and the love for you grew stronger. The more I try to forget, the more I think of you. You just won't leave me. And know I think you've come back to haunt me."

She let out a short, hysterical giggle. Her hand climbed up her chest, reaching down her shirt to pull out the ring. She rested her head against the cool marble, chills running up and down her body. She gazed at the ring, touching it tenderly and clutching it with the will to never let go. Composing what was left of herself, she then murmured, " I'm scared, Draco. I love you. Still…I don't know why I'm scared, but I am. I don't know whom I can talk to. No one understands. No one could understand. I…I just wish you where here. Then it would all be the same.

"But I'm crying…all the time. I…I just can't get you to leave me alone, and then I don't want you to leave me alone! Merlin, why did you give me the ring? Why did you have to die? Damn it, answer me! I'm sick of crying! I'm sick of these horrid nightmares! I'm sick of loving you, and yet I can't hate you…because I love you too much to stop loving you." She sighed. "I sound crazy, don't I? Maybe I am crazy, maybe this is all a dream. I hope so. I wish I can just wake up, right now, and you and I would be on that couch, holding onto each other. And I would never let you go. 

"I keep thinking, back to that day. And I'm sorry I didn't wake up when you left. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that I loved you, that you couldn't hear those words from me." Hermione cried, fresh tears clinging desperately onto her wet eyelashes before they made their slippery way down her visage.

"But I did hear those words," A deep masculine voice said. Hermione's head shot upward. Her heat beat widely in her chest that she was tempted to press a hand against her beating heart in order to calm it down. Her eyes widening in surprise and fear. She opened her mouth, ready to give some sort of startled yelp, yet no sound issued forth. It seemed impossible; it was impossible! How could it be? It seemed time had froze, and her whole body had stopped when her amber eyes looked into Draco's blue crystal orbs.

TBC

~*~

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A/N: Sorry about the delay between my chapters. I never seem to find enough time to write nowadays! I will try harder to be better at this. So, maybe to _encourage_ me to write at a faster pace, you could **review**…. ^_~

There seemed to be a little confusion in my last author's note. What I meant to say, (hopefully this comes out easier to understand) is that there are two sequels, thus meaning that you have a choice in which ending you want _Forever Yours_ to be. Aren't I nice? Gives you another reason to review! ^_~ I love reviews, as most of you could probably tell…..

Anyway. Please review for this story! I'd be so happy! Wishing! _ *crosses fingers* 


	3. I'll Love You Tomorrow

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry…only this coffee mug with cold coffee inside of it…not very tasty O.o I have come to the conclusion that caffeine does not affect me…Draco, however, does, but he doesn't count ^_^

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No Reason to Doubt

_I'll Love You Tomorrow _

By Pensive Puddles

"But I did hear those words…" Those six words still rang in her ears even as the cemetery filled with silence again. She covered her mouth in disbelief. How was it possible? He was dead! She saw his body in the coffin…saw him lying down, hell, she had almost thrown herself into his grave! She stumbled back, her legs refusing to hold herself up.

Tears fell down her face. What kind of sick magic was this? She was already hurting! Why was someone doing this? Tripping over her own feet, she fell to the ground, her body lying on the ground, but her eyes still captivated by his piercing eyes, his blue eyes so full of life.

The man hurried towards her, kneeling down to help her. She flinched under his touch. He drew away sharply, surprised at her odd actions. He leaned down and said calm, soothing voice, "What's wrong, Hermione?"

Hermione…it sounded so good when he said it. She used to hate her name when she was younger. It was so long, nothing short and cute like Penny, or Jenny, or Brittney. It wasn't something that sounded cute. Her parents couldn't have named her Hannah, or Amanda, or Tracy. No, they had to name her Hermione. And she used to grimace at how people would butcher her name when reading her name among a list of other students' name. She could still remember how it had taken Victor Krum, star Quidditch player, a good six months to actually say her name with giving it more syllables than it already had, and make his mouth move in bizarre potions to pronounce the sounds. Draco had always said it so smoothly; giving it elegance no one else could, and making her feel proud to have her awkward name. 

He leaned down to touch her and she did not flinch. He helped her to her feet, still looking into her eyes. Another fearful tear fell from her eyes. What if she was dreaming this? A wave of doubt washed over her and her eyes became downcast. What if it really **was** a dream? What if all the grief he had caused her was making her imagine him? 

"I'm back, Hermione, I'm alive," he said as if reading her thoughts. She looked up at him, still skeptical. He reached for her hand and held it in his. "Don't you feel me?"

She did. She gasped at how warm he was against her cold her skin. She had forgotten how soft his skin was. He placed her palm against his face and she faltered. She had forgotten so much about him. She took her unsteady hand and reach up. She drew her hand away a little, once or twice and finally rested it against the other side of his head. She could feel him…

Her relief and happiness soared through her, crashing onto her so hard that she almost screamed in pain. Instead, her tears of doubt and fear changed to tears of joy. "Oh, Draco…!"

She couldn't speak, couldn't do anything. He smiled. She believed he was real. Hermione watched as his own clear tears fell from his face and he touched her face, and he leaned down and kissed her. She moaned. It had been too long since she felt his lips against her own. She held onto him and cried harder. Her cries turned into sobs and she held onto him as her chest seemed to explode with happiness.

"You're…You're alive!" she whispered, her smile so wide she thought her face would break. But she didn't care. All she knew was that her lover was alive. 

"Yes. I'm back," he said and kissed her again. Warmth filled her cold body and Hermione relished his kiss. He drew away. Her body lost the heat he had given her and she begged, "Kiss me again."

He didn't object. Hermione held onto him, clutching onto his shirt. It was the same one he had worn when he had left her house, the same shirt they had found him in when he was murdered.

She pulled away, anger filling her. Stepping back, she raised her hand and slapped him. Draco staggered back, completely taken by surprise. "Hermione! What the hell?"

"That's for leaving me, you basterd! Did you realize how much pain you put me through? Did you? Where the **hell** of you been? Oh, I could strangle you with my bare hands!" she screamed angrily, hitting his chest with her small fists. Draco grabbed her wrists and said in a gentle voice, "Hermione! Calm down!"

"Calm down? **Calm down**? Are you **insane**?" she yelled. "I had to watch you go into the ground! I had to speak at your funeral! My life was a living hell because everything I did, I thought of you! My whole relationship with my friends completely dissolved because of you because I was so depressed! How the hell am I supposed to be calm when you all the sudden pop out of no where after almost a **year**! My whole life was screwed up because of you! You basterd!"

She ripped her hands out of his grip and punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, clutching his stomach. Either she had more strength than she realized, or there was something more than what she saw. Her anger disappeared immediately and was replaced with concern. Falling to her knees, she lightly touched Draco's back. She asked, "Draco, baby, what's wrong?"

He turned to his side and she held him in her arms automatically. He looked up at her, eyes clouded in pain. His eyes reminded her of those whom only had a few moments left of life. _Don't let him die! Oh, Merlin, Jesus! Don't let him die!_ She begged feverishly to whom ever was listening.

Draco closed his eyes and looked at her, the pain leaving his eyes slowly. He coughed, "Since when did you get a good left hook? And since when did you resort to punching me instead of slapping?

She smiled. _Still cocky, even in pain,_ she observed thoughtfully. She held him closer to her chest, letting her head lower to allow her lips to brush against his forehead. They stayed like that, him cradled in her lap, and her whispering her apologies and giving butterfly kisses against his face and lips.

He looked up a tiredly at her. "Can we go to your place?" 

She nodded and proceeded to help him. She took out her wand and Apparated them both to her home. It felt like a quick rush, as if a part of them was holding on weakly. And then it suddenly stopped and it felt as if nothing had happened at all, although they knew it did. Draco became heavy in her arms and she panicked at seeing his white face. 

Helping him to the couch, she let him lie on the soft cushions and kneeled on the ground, looking down onto his pale, perspired complexion. She brushed a strand of his pale hair away from his face. _Even now, it still feels like silk…_

Stretching her long sleeve shirt, she took the sleeve and dabbed the sweat away, finding any excuse to touch him. She continued to gaze down at him, still unable to comprehend that he was lying in front of her, breathing, living…

He opened his eyes, revealing blue eyes she had dreamt of for so many nights. They were more startling in real life than in her dreams. She fell into their sea. His lips moved but she didn't ear anything. When he touched her hand, sending a jolt through her did she try to remember what he had said to her. He smiled tiredly at her, "I knew you weren't listening."

"What'd you say," she asked, slowly drowning in his eyes again.

He chuckled, "I was just saying how you were looking at me like a tiger seeing fresh meat."

"Oh," she blushed. "Sorry…it's just that…"

"I know," he said. She didn't need to finish. He knew what she was feeling.

"Draco," she said. He looked at her, still caressing her hand with his. "How…you were supposed to be dead."

"Do you want me dead?" he asked, his eyes dull and emotionless. She longed to see that living spark in them again. She shook her head quickly. 

"No! Of course not!" she shook her head at his stupidity. "After all the pain I went through to loosing you once? What I meant was--"

"I knew what you meant," he cut her off and smiled up at her. She smiled at seeing the spark again. Her insides turned in a painful, yet pleasing feeling. He sighed, "I don't know what really happened. I remembered everything that happened though, almost everything.

"I left you that morning. I wish I hadn't--"

"Me too," she agreed silently, and she realized why he was glaring at her. He always did hate being interrupted. He continued speaking, "I met some of the remaining Death Eaters who still longed to punish those who betrayed the Dark Lord. I…they found me. I tried to fight. I could have taken them down. I've had worse odds…but they threatened to kill you, and I had just gotten you, Hermione. I couldn't bear it if they took you away from me," he kissed her hands, closing his eyes as he painfully remembered. He didn't look at her as he kept telling his story.

"So I went with them. I exchanged pleasantries, and being the pleasant person that I was, they killed me. But I had already split apart myself. I had done it before they had attacked me. And they had taken me away by portkey before I could touch it. And I was separated from myself. I saw everything though, kinda like an inner eye. I could hear everything as well. It was like I was an observer, hearing and seeing all."

Hermione saw his eyes cloud in pain. "I watched the light hit my body and it fall lifeless to the ground. And something funny happened. I felt like I was on fire, being burnt alive. I felt like metal bands were tightening around my lungs, suffocating me. I felt as if a thousand _Cruios_ curses were being shot at me at the same time and they wouldn't stop. It hurt so bad, Hermione. I felt…I felt as if I was in hell…"

A tear slid down his face, as the horrible memories resurfaced and the recollection of the pain add to the horrible visions. He swallowed and continued, "I blanked out. The pain was so unbearable. I woke up though, and I thought I was dead. But I wasn't. I looked around and found myself in the cemetery. The Death Eaters were gone. My body was gone. I made my way back into town and I saw the newspaper. It was weird. My death was in bold letters on the first page. It's funny to see what people said about me, how they tried not to praise me yet not say something horrible. It would have been amusing if I hadn't been so confused. They had quotes by you, and Potter. Even Weasley threw in a comment. Imagine my surprise when it wasn't something scornful.

"I went to your house first, but you weren't there. I didn't know where you were. So I waited for you. I broke in. You have horrible locks, by the way, "he added. She shot him a look, telling him to go back to his story, "And then you came home. You were crying. You looked…so sad…I've never seen you like that. And I finally tried to touch you…and I felt you. I really did. But you didn't react. You couldn't see me. You couldn't feel me or hear me. I was so scared. It was as if I was a ghost, but I knew you would have seen, or at least felt me if I were one. 

"You ran into your room. I tried to follow, but I couldn't climb the stairs. I passed out on the floor. I was so weak. I sat on your couch, you know. I only could watch you. I couldn't do anything. I tried to reveal myself to you. But…it was impossible. It was worse than being dead. I hated it. I almost was tempted to kill myself. But I saw you holding the ring. And it gave me…hope, I guess. **You** gave me hope. You continued to love me, even after I was gone. 

"I left to visit Potter's house when you went to bed. Even he couldn't see me. He was looking at pictures in an album Ginny Weasley had given him for his birthday. He smiled at some, laughed at others. And then he came to a picture of him and me. I never did smile. I never understood how he could smile, after the war. I couldn't. I mean I tried. But it felt so unnatural. But the photo-me waved at him and I smiled. My picture **smiled** at him and he broke down into **tears**. It was pitiful, to see the Boy-Who-Lived, Savior of the World, Defeator of Voldermort, cry for me, a **spy**. I tried to reveal myself but I was too weak. 

"I went through his folders, after he had fallen asleep on the couch. I finally found the documents to the spell he had created. I picked it up and the file fell through my hands. It fell **through** me, Hermione," he said quietly, appalled at the thought. "I panicked. My body was fading in and out. I was slowly becoming a ghost, I think. It passed though, and I could pick the file up without it falling through my hands. Potter had only told me the words need for the spell to work, not anything else. I flipped through the file, finding out how to get back together with myself. I found out that the longer I was separated from my other half, the weaker I'd become. Potter had split himself up for almost three week before he started to grow extremely weak. He put himself back together again. I had been separated from myself for months then. I thought I was going to die, fade away into nothing that I could only watch the world before me but I could do nothing. It was horrible, Hermione.

"I took the file with me and went back to your house. If I was going to fade away to nothing, I was going to do it at your house. You were going to be the last thing I would see before I died. It would have made the passing easier. I read and re-read the files. Then I finally decided that night that I would get myself back together again. You were hurting yourself, with the alcohol and avoiding everyone. I did it for you.

"I went to the cemetery, and I connected myself back together again. I opened my eyes and I was in the coffin. It was terrible. The air was stale. It reeked of a rotten body and I felt sick. Do you know that I still had my wand? It seemed that the spell had also divided my clothes and wand into two things as well. But anyway, I brought myself back together again, appeared on the ground again somehow, and vomited. But I felt stronger. I felt alive again.

"I was about to blast the earth away but I collapsed again. It seemed the short connection had weakened me even more. I passed out. I don't remember how long I was out, but when I woke up, I was determined to be whole again. I blasted the earth away, connecting with myself again. It hurt like hell. I don't know why, but I had to separate myself quickly to ease the pain. Finally, I did it again and the pain still was there. I waited it out. And it finally subsided. But Merlin, Hermione, I thought I was going to die. The pain was practically as bad as when I was killed.

"I went back to your house and you were at work. I ate and the food had never tasted so good before. All the food I had eaten before tasted like ash in my mouth. I had been starved for all those months, parched of thirst. I at so much, I threw up. But I took a shower and I felt so good afterwards. I sat down on your couch, so excited to see you. And you came and I waited for you to notice me.

"You looked straight at me. And through me. You couldn't see me and you sighed and went to the kitchen, taking out your bottle of booze. My hopes had been crushed, and I cried. I tried to get you to notice me, really I did. I didn't understand what was going on.

"Remember that one night? You had drunk in the kitchen and then passed out in the couch, I was there--"

"I saw you!" Hermione gasped. Realization swept over her and her eyes widened even more, "**You** were the one who did things! Put things back into their regular place, like the tea cup and bed!" 

He nodded, a smile on his face. "After that night, I wanted you to notice that I was back. But I noticed that something was still wrong. I placed my hand down to touch you when you were asleep that night and my hand was white. I had turned into what seemed like a ghost. By then, your eyes had closed, my skin turned back into it's regular color. It was odd to say the least.

"But I tried. And I watched as you screamed the next day and came to the grave again. I heard you whisper to me. And I cried. I had wiped my face with my hand and then I saw your tears. I reached up and tried to touch them, and I felt them. I can still remember the heat that filled my body when your tears touched mine. You didn't see it, but there was a small explosion of bright light and I flew backwards. I opened my eyes and everything seemed brighter than before, and I breathed and it hurt. It felt like my first breath…

"I heard you and I wished you could see me, I prayed you would see me. I walked over to you and I spoke. I had spoken to you many times before and this time, my voice was louder than before, clearer than before, more **alive** than before. And you turned around. You had heard me…" Draco finally came to the end of his story. Another tear fell from his eye. He smiled up at her. 

Hermione smiled back and rested her head against his chest. She breathed in deep and smelled him, smelled **his** scent. Oh! how she had missed it!

She turned and kissed his lips gently. She smiled down at him. "Coffee?"

"Merlin, it's been forever since I've had any!" he sighed and got up, following her to the kitchen. As she went over to the coffee maker and poured water into the strainer filled with black grinned beans, warm arms circled around her waist. She sighed as soft lips caressed themselves against her neck. His hands slipped under her shirt and rubbed against her stomach. She moaned and turned around, winding her arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss. They lost themselves in each other and were brought back to reality by the beeping of the coffee machine. They pulled apart, breathing deeply. They rested their foreheads against the others. 

Hermione pulled herself away and grabbed two mugs. Her hands felt around and her eyes sparkled as she took a green mug out from the back of the cupboard. She dusted it off with her shirt and filled it with coffee. Taking the two mugs, she walked over to her small table and sat down. Draco walked over lazily and collapsed into a chair. Hermione looked at him in concern. He shrugged it off. 

"It's happened so many times, I don't even notice it that much anymore," he stated as if it happened to everyone.

"There must be some sort of spell," she said more to herself than Draco. She smiled reassuringly at him, "I'll get some potions to help you from fainting. Strengthening ones."

He nodded his thanks and drunk the black liquid. He pulled a face, "Needs milk."

He disappeared into the kitchen and carried out a small carton of cream. As she watched him pour his cream into the liquid, she asked quietly, "What does it feel like now? Being back together when one of you is dead?"

He looked at her with a long gaze. He sighed and took another sip of his drink, thinking on how to answer her. "It feels…colder. I can't do as much as I used to. I'm strong, sure, but I can't do what I could do before. And my soul…Hermione, I feel as if half of me is missing, dead."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"It's not your fault. It's just life, my life. And you know what?" he said.

"What?" she asked automatically. She always hated not knowing the answer.

"I would rather have half of my life, so that I could spend it with you," he smiled. Hermione smiled and grinned even wider as he leaned across the table and kissed her.

They talked for the rest of the night, the sky growing darker and the stars bright. Hermione yawned and Draco spoke, "You need to get to bed. You still have to get to work tomorrow."

She groaned. "I'll skip it."

He shook his head. "You have a job to do, Hermione. Besides, I saw your bills. You're short of cash. And anyway, I want to give Harry a good thrill tomorrow." An evil grin spread over his face. Some things would **never** change.

"And what if I told him that you were back before you saw him?" she asked teasingly. His eyes seemed to shine even brighter, making Hermione's own eyes grow dim in nervousness. "Draco…"

He swooped down on her, picking her out of her chair as if she was nothing but a feathery pillow and he carried her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Screaming threats while laughing, Hermione kicked playfully at Draco as he carried her up the stairs and to her bedroom. He threw her on the bed and she frowned at him. He raised an eyebrow. "Granger, you knew you liked it."

"And when does a Malfoy get the privilege of saying what I liked and what I don't like?" she snapped. Draco crawled next to her, and leaned over her, his hair almost falling into her face. He leaned down, his breath hot against her face. He touched her side and felt her shudder. He smirked, "When I was able to get you to love me…"

He leaned down and kissed her. She let him kiss her, explore in her mouth. When he broke apart, she whispered against his lips, "Who said I loved you?"

She pushed him off of her and flew into the bathroom. He looked at the door with wide eyes. What was she playing at? He had **heard** her with her own lips that she loved him. He stopped at the door of the bathroom and opened it. She was leaning over the sink, her mouth filled with foam from her toothpaste. 

"What do you mean? I heard you say that I loved you," he accused. 

She spat the foam into the sink and rinsed her mouth and the sink. Wiping her mouth, she looked at him, "And what if it was a different kind of love? Like a brotherly love? Best friend kind of love?"

She walked past him, slipping off clothes and put a tang top and shorts on. She glared at him and he turned his back to her, trying to use the mirror hanging on the wall to see her body. "I know you love me, Granger."

"You can look now," she said and he turned around. She was already in bed, her bed sheets pulled up to her chin. He would have smiled if he hadn't been so confused by her. He leaned against the door frame. She raised her eyebrows, "Aren't you coming to bed?" 

She looked down at the spot next to her and at him. He looked at her sternly for a second, trying to find a weak point. Finding none, he pulled off his shirt and stripped down to his boxers. She giggled and he frowned. "What?"

"Just remembering your expression when you pulled them out of the gift box," she said and he shrugged. He walked over to her and flipped the covers up so he could slide next to her. She turned on her side, back towards him. Draco looked at her, still trying to understand what she was doing to him.

He leaned in closer, her legs brushing against his and he savored the feeling. He rested a head on her shoulder. "Do you love me?"

She looked at him. "Of course I love you! What kind of silly question is that?"

"But what **kind** of love?" he asked. He had to know. What was he in her eyes?

She turned on her back and looked at him. "That comment earlier **really** bothered you?" 

He blushed, hoping that in the dark room she couldn't see it. It seemed females came into the world with night vision and she chuckled, "Draco…I didn't mean anything by it. I just wanted to catch you off guard. I personally, thought it was a stupid line to say. But I couldn't think of anything else to say."

He was silent for a moment. And he laid his head down on her soft cotton covered pillow. "Good night," he said. 

"Good night," she replied. Hermione closed her eyes. She smiled as she heard him fidget in the bed, and felt his arm slip around her waist, holding her close to him and against his chest. She felt his chest press into her back every time she breathed and she breathed in unison with him. 

She opened her eyes and whispered, "I love you, Draco."

"Why?" his deep voice demanded. Her heart stopped for a second. She thought he was asleep. Caught, she gave him his reason, "Because you're perfect. You're handsome. You've got money--"

"Hermione…" he growled and she giggled, "Just checking your hearing!"

Sighing again, she began to list the reasons of why she loved him, "You have a cute smile. You aren't a huge snob like you used to be. You care what other people think, and listen to them when they talk to you. You're kind. You're smart. You're gentle. You have the best kisses in the world. I love how your eyes will dilate when you're thinking really hard. I love how your hair blows in the wind. I love how you dress to impress me. I love how you're so sweet to me, and make me feel special and beautiful. I love how every time you look at me, it's like for the first time in a long while. I love how you make my stomach flip every time I see you. I love how you remember everything I say…I love how you make me feel like a goddess, like I'm worth more than anything in this world…like I'm worth being loved."

"Of course you're worth more than anything!" he scoffed at her foolishness. "Why wouldn't you be? Look at you! You're perfect! And that's why I want…"

He didn't finish his sentence. He just grew silent. She looked at him, worried. "What, Draco?"

"Never mind," he said. 

"Tell me!" she said, laughing at his stubbornness. 

"It was just…well…Hermione Granger," he paused. He leaned over her, his bright blue eyes shinning in the night, "I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?

Hermione opened her mouth in disbelief. She had always imagined a proposal. It always was romantic, involving candles and a fancy restaurant or something creative. But it was just plain and simple. It was just a question. It was in her bed, in the dark, and not one thing romantic about it. And yet, her heart constricted in her chest and she found herself smiling, a hand covering her mouth. 

One of the handsomest, richest men in the world had asked her hand in marriage. After all they've been through…something deep inside her told her what the right answer was. She cocked her head to the side and said, "Draco."

"Yes?" he asked, his voice almost cracking in anticipation of her answer.

"I will marry you." She heard him give a little cry in victory and he captured her lips with his. She laughed, sitting up in bed in his arms and she let him kiss her. He took his wand off the night stand and muttered something. A whistling sound filled the room and Draco caught the flying object with his hand. Laughing happily, he placed the ring on her finger. He looked up at her in delight and kissed her again.

They laid back down, his arms circled around her waist. Hermione held the ring into the little moonlight shinning through her window and noticed it was the same ring he had given to her before. _Forever Yours_, the words glistened in the night. "Do you promise to be mine, forever?"

He kissed her head. "That's why I gave you the ring. A Malfoy can only marry once for eternity. And Granger, there's no one else I'd rather spend eternity with."

"I love you, Draco."

"And I love you, forever, Hermione," he murmured in her hair and closed his eyes. She felt his breaths deepen and she sighed. She was the luckiest girl in the world. She smiled. She couldn't wait for tomorrow. 

**__**

~ The End ~

A/N: I know! What a corny ending! I felt so bad at not writing for so long! You see, I got side tracked by this contest I entered in, and I couldn't think of anything to write for this chapter! So…flame me…I'm looking forward to them… seriously. Although nice reviews are welcomed, heck, **any** review is welcomed! 

Hope you got some type of enjoyment out of this horrible sequel. Personally, I'm ashamed that I even wrote this, almost like my poems *slaps head* But you _could_ tell me otherwise or the same by a review! _Please_! Don't make me feel like such a loser! Let me know that you actually **read** this piece of crap! It would make me feel better to know that this sucked royally because you read it, than not to read it at all.

By the way, I've decided **NOT** to do the other sequel. I have other stories floating around in my mind. And considering, sequels never go very well--this story is written proof-- I'm not going to even bother with it. My apologies if you were looking forward to it…

Before I sign off, and write something a worth reading, thank you to those who stuck by me for so long! Bozena…Compellingold… Dreaming One…Mesmer…RebelRikki…Badbmidnight…Ace7…righteousgrl…sweet-77-thang…innocentrose…Bombshell…Kyra4…and Laura…Thank you guys so much! Y'all freaken rock!

Toodles!

~ Pensive Puddles


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